From Frost to Flame

Part 56: Silent Rivalry

It's been a while since I wrote, and I know I've kept you all waiting. Here's the new chapter—still rough, no edits, but I hope it's worth the wait.

Enjoy..
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The venue glittered with golden lights spilling from the tall windows, music thrumming faintly against the walls. Cars lined up at the entrance, one after another, carrying familiar faces.

Vegas stepped out of his car, the weight of expectation slipping over his shoulders like a well-tailored jacket. Kinn was beside him, effortlessly confident, soaking in the moment.

The party hall buzzed softly, filled with the laughter and chatter of colleagues who were no longer bound by spreadsheets and meetings. The low thrum of background music added to the atmosphere, giving everything a relaxed, almost festive feel.

Vegas stepped through the door, his gaze sweeping the room as he did so. Kinn was beside him, his usual casual self, scanning the crowd for friends to talk to. Vegas, however, was less interested in the chatter around them. His eyes immediately found Pete.

Pete was sitting at a table with Sky and Mr. Day, the three of them engaged in easy conversation. Sky had his arm draped casually over the back of Pete's chair, talking animatedly about something, while Pete seemed to be listening more than speaking, his posture slightly stiff but not unapproachable.

Mr. Day was leaning in, speaking quietly to Pete, his words just soft enough to make Vegas strain to catch them. The way Pete smiled, relaxed but polite, as Day adjusted his tie—it all looked so damn natural. The connection between them felt effortless, easy, and it irritated Vegas more than he cared to admit.

Vegas's fingers twitched at his side, itching to do something.
Anything. But what?

He wasn't even sure what he wanted.

To pull Pete away from Day?

To make Pete notice him the way he'd noticed Day?

Or to just be left alone with his thoughts, his emotions, the confusion of this strange, gnawing feeling inside him.

He stood still for a moment just inside the door, Kinn walking ahead to greet some colleagues, leaving Vegas to stand there, caught in this strange stillness. The warmth of the room felt like it was pressing in on him, but his eyes stayed fixed on Pete. The way Day's hand lingered on the back of Pete's chair—just a touch too familiar.

Vegas clenched his jaw, his fingers twitching at his side, but he didn't move. Not yet.

Kinn's voice broke through the fog of his thoughts. "You good, man?" he asked, glancing back over his shoulder with that signature, half-amused look on his face.

Vegas barely nodded, his gaze never leaving Pete.

He wasn't ready to answer, not yet. His mind was too tangled, his thoughts too sharp, but he couldn't tear himself from Pete's figure at that table. The laughter from Sky, the ease in Pete's body language, how Mr. Day leaned in just a little too close. It all grated against him.

"Yeah, just..." Vegas trailed off, the words caught in his throat. He wasn't sure what he was feeling—jealousy, frustration, or something else entirely—but it was all building up inside him, pressing against his chest in a way that made him feel off-balance.

"Just what?" Kinn raised an eyebrow, following Vegas's line of sight. "You're staring at Pete again, huh?"

Vegas's lips pressed together, and he didn't answer, but the tension in his shoulders was evident.  He hated this feeling—this jealousy—and worse, he hated that it was so easy for Day to slip in and take what Vegas wanted. It was becoming too clear, and it burned deeper than he cared to admit.

Kinn let out a low chuckle. "Alright, I get it." His voice dropped slightly, now taking on a more serious tone. "I'm not gonna tell you not to be pissed, but don't let it mess with your night. You came here to relax. Have fun."

Vegas exhaled sharply through his nose, but still, he didn't look away. His mind was too tangled, his thoughts too sharp, but he couldn't tear himself from Pete's figure at that table.

Sky was laughing again, his hand resting comfortably on Pete's shoulder. And there, in that brief moment, Vegas felt something cold settle inside him.

He didn't want to admit it—not to Kinn, not even to himself—but it simmered just below the surface: The way Day seemed to slip into Pete's space so naturally, leaving Vegas with the sting of something he hadn't been able to reach.

"Let's go grab a drink," Kinn suggested, trying to break the tension that hung thick between them.

Vegas shook his head, not out of reluctance but because he couldn't trust himself to drink, to act casual. He would just stand here, just long enough to get this under control. Just long enough to see how close Day was getting to Pete.

Vegas stood at the edge of the crowd, the warmth of the room suddenly feeling suffocating.

His eyes stayed fixed on Pete, watching him with an intensity he couldn't suppress. Each laugh, each smile from Pete, sent a twist of frustration through him.

Kinn had long since wandered off, chatting with some of the others. But Vegas didn't care about the conversations happening around him. His mind was elsewhere. Pete's easygoing demeanor. The casual way Mr. Day had spoken to him. The way Pete smiled, relaxed, and didn't even seem to notice how close Day was getting.

It all gnawed at Vegas, the jealousy crawling under his skin, making him feel like he was losing control.